Mr Graham, ah, Mr Graham; a rotund, somewhat-less-than-healthy-looking middle-aged man. A great big bear of a man: slightly crumpled shirt, loose tie, a suit that had seen better days and the perpetual aroma of stale cigarette smoke. Mr Graham: a wonderful (ex) Latin teacher, who had been relegated to teaching English and being a form tutor to the likes of me, following the demise of his own subject. Mr Graham was my first year form tutor at secondary school, back in 1984. He also taught some of us for English and History.
The archetypal ‘firm but fair’ teacher, approachable and friendly, but the rules were there to be followed. I can still recall him strolling, jovially along the crowded corridors, smiling and chatting to pupils, but when he said, “Where’s your blazer?” or “Do those laces up!” we all knew it would be wise to comply.
In his private life…
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